Gotcha, whore
Oh, God. Somebody had been at the bank. Watching. Taking photos. Close. Too close.
My doorbell chimed, announcing a visitor. I dashed to the small screen. A hooded figure stood outside, their back to the camera.
My heart thundered, my chest constricting. I was safe. Four stories up. My caller was outside with no way in unless I wanted them in, but I’d never felt more exposed. I pressed a trembling finger to the speaker button. “Who is it?”
The dark visitor didn’t move.
“Hey. Hi. You buzzed?”
Silence.
I waited, gaze glued to the small screen.
The person moved out of sight, but not before a wind gust blew a lock of blond hair over the top of the hood.
My cell chimed in my hand. I jumped. Screamed. Dropped the phone. The cursed thing taunted me from the floor.
New toy?
Not for long
The room spun. She was dead. Someone was playing a cruel joke. Oh, God. They never found her body. Had she even been in the car?
Victoria was dead.
She had to be dead.
Curled in a ball, phone to my ear, I waited, every ring a reminder of the distance, every second ticking another chink in my armor.
Four painfully long rings before he answered.
“Gorgeous. You’re early.” Heavy breaths blew through the speaker, traffic noise in the background.
“I couldn’t wait,” I said, my voice not my own and inaudible through the heavy rap in my chest.
“I know the feeling.” He laughed. “Been a crazy day, and I can’t stop thinking about seeing you next weekend.”
“Cole?” My voice quivered, and I forced a deep and slow inhale, exhale.
“Natalie. What’s wrong?”
“I…um.” I considered spilling my guts. But at what cost? Those texts couldn’t have come from Victoria. She was dead, right? God, what if I was wrong? I refused to drag Cole through that hell. Not without knowing for sure. He’d suffered her cruelty too much already.
No denying, though, I was shaken. My heart and head were a bloody mess of warring emotions. Cole would come to the rescue, I had no doubt. My white knight. My dimpled hero. A simple, “I need you,” and he’d come running.
But girl power and all that jazz. “Nothing. I’m fine. Just feels good to hear your voice.”
“You sound upset.”
“You sound busy.” I shouldn’t have called.
“On my way to a meeting.”
“I won’t keep you. Call me tonight. Our scheduled time.”
A door slammed, and the street noise disappeared. “Talk to me.”
“Really, I’m a thousand times better now that I’ve heard your voice.”
A huff. “This won’t work if we aren’t honest with each other.”
“I possibly landed a stellar account today,” I blurted, hoping to divert the conversation. “We’re meeting with the clients tomorrow. If they like my proposal, it would be a game changer for our division.”
“That’s great, sunshine. I’m proud of you. But you didn’t answer my question.”
“Really, I’m fine. I don’t want to make you late for—”
“Goddamn, Natalie!” A hard slam. “Don’t do that.” Weighted silence. A deep inhale, loud exhale. “Fuck. I’m sorry I yelled. But I’m going out of my fucking mind here, okay? It’s hard enough trusting someone again. I need transparency. All the time. I can’t do this if… I can’t live like…” The phone crackled like he was changing hands. “You’re far away, and I need to know you’re okay.”
He wasn’t asking too much. Honestly, I loved that he worried. Worry meant he cared, right? Or maybe it wasn’t worry for my wellbeing but for his own piece of mind. We were hundreds of miles apart, and I could betray him in countless ways if I were so inclined.
Victoria’s infidelity had done a number, the wound still raw. Cole wanted to trust in us, in me, but he couldn’t and, yes, that truth hurt, but I understood the root of his misgivings.
“Okay. You’re right. Something happened today. But I’m safe, in one piece, and I’ll tell you, but not while you’re at work. Full disclosure tonight. I promise.”
Foreboding silence ticked like a doomsday countdown. The organ in my chest boom-boom-boomed to the grim rhythm.
Cole was my one. Extraordinary circumstances brought us together. If my fears were confirmed, if Victoria was alive, a thousand and one horrible things could tear us apart. My time with Cole was possibly limited, and I couldn’t end our conversation on a negative note. “Are we having our first fight, Cole?” Dreadful silence. My heart beat faster, louder. “Because if we are, I can’t wait for the makeup sex.”
A huff, followed by a chuckle. I pictured his dimples and sighed, my muscles uncoiling.
“Jesus, Natalie. I’m sorry.”
“Forgiven.”
An engine roared to life, loud music blared then diminished. Cole huffed. “I really have to go. Need to be across town in twenty minutes. I’ll call you as soon as I get home.”
“I like fighting with you, Cole Adams. Talk to you soon.”
“Natalie?”
“Yes.”
“Be naked when I call.”
Another sigh, and I hit End, curling deeper into my down comforter.
I must’ve nodded off because I woke myself up screaming when my nightmare hit too close to home, a hooded figure with blond hair, long sharp nails, and a distorted face dragging me through a dusky, wet forest.
My room was dark, the windows offering no illumination. I fumbled for my phone, searching the rumpled bedding. It buzzed at the same time my fingers came in contact with the cold metal.
“Cole,” came out more a plea than a greeting.
“You naked?”
Shaken by my dream, overwhelmed with need, and desperate to keep Cole as long as possible, I blurted, “I live in Whisper Springs, Idaho in a secure building, but I don’t feel safe, and I don’t wanna play this game with you anymore. Testing fate was a stupid idea.”
No hesitation. “You’ve been crying.”
Fuck fate and fuck Victoria, and girl power could suck it for a while. “Yes. And I—”
“Natalie.” A dark voice cut me off. “I’ll be there in six hours.”
The call ended.
“You’re here.” I jumped, knowing he’d catch me and curled around his big strong body, hooking my ankles behind his perfect ass.
“I’m here.” Cole kissed me long and hard, then spun, backing through my door, one hand supporting my butt, the other pulling his suitcase inside.
God, I loved his strength.
“Did you drive all night?”
“Yes,” was his simple reply.
I peppered his face with kisses of gratitude and didn’t let go until he’d walked me through the hallway, past the kitchen, and into my living room where he sat on the couch with me in his lap, then gave me a lip-lock for the ages, full of heat and tongue and teeth and groans of appreciation.
Deft fingers made their way under my sleep shirt and worked my nipples to tight peaks.
I rolled my hips, his erection nestled in the sweet spot, rubbing the ache, erasing the fear.
Cole cupped my cheeks, gold eyes assessing. “I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.”
That perfect face, those sleepy eyes, that lazy grin. Heaven help me.
“I didn’t text you my address.” I pushed off his lap and took a step back. “How did you know where I live?”
He leaned back, stretching his arms across the back of my sofa, his gray wool coat pulling open to reveal a black thermal that fit like body paint over his well sculpted torso. “I have my ways.”
God, that smirk.
I ditched my shirt and tossed it his way. Another step back, and I stepped out of my pajama pants. “How’d you get past security?”
Cole stared from his seated position, my top hanging half off his shoulder, his bottom lip caught betw
een his teeth. “Can we talk about all of that later?”
I shimmied out of my panties. Those, too, landed in his lap. “Let’s go to bed.” I turned and sauntered toward the hallway. “No sex, but we’re sleeping naked.”
“Is there any other way?” Footsteps fell behind me, and by the time he caught up, he was nothing but skin and sexy grin.
I hit the lights and slid under my sheets. Cole snuggled behind me, melding our bodies, and whispered, “We have so much to talk about.”
“Tomorrow,” I answered, bringing his knuckles to my lips.
He pulled me tighter, and three heartbeats later, soft snores filled my room.
Mr. Sandman must’ve skipped over me entirely because my clock read 5:06 AM, and I still lay awake, tuned in to every creek and groan of the quiet building.
I slipped out of bed and fired up my computer. I hadn’t ruled out Holden as my stalker, though I doubted he would dedicate enough time to finding where I lived. He loved his work, mostly the attention his online presence garnered, but still, I was compelled to check.
Ten minutes into my search, I’d confirmed that Holden was attending a fitness expo in Salt Lake City.
The revelation both relieved and terrified me.
If Holden was not taunting me, then that left one other option.
The worse of the two options.
I crawled back into bed and curled around my sleeping man. The man who would do the right thing and take care of his possibly resurrected wife.
He hadn’t asked me what was wrong, thank you, Jesus, because the truth I had to tell would kill him.
Our view was perfect, the mood somber, my nerves shot.
I hunched over the red Formica table, pretending to read the menu, scrambling for the right words, the correct way to share my suspicions with Cole and possibly slit my own throat.
But I was a coward and selfish, so instead asked, “How is it you’re so put together and on top of things after three hours of sleep?”
He winked at me over the laminated cardboard. “I’m trying real hard to impress a girl.”
“Lucky lady.”
“Morning, kids. You ready to order?” came a big voice from a small human.
Cole didn’t miss a beat, laying his menu down and facing the child. “What’s good here?”
“Special today is…” The boy with jet black hair and exotic green eyes looked over his shoulder, then back to Cole and leaned close. “Rocky’s triple chocolate peanut butter milkshake. Mom says milkshakes aren’t for breakfast, but I say they’re better than oatmeal.”
“We’ll have two.”
The kid grinned wider than a pancake. The eight-year-old was the spitting image of his father, who happened to own The Truck Stop Diner, and who also happened to own the condo I lived in, along with Rossi Enterprises, the very company I was scheduled to woo in a few short hours.
“I’ll also have the veggie omelet, and my beautiful lady will have…” Brows raised, Cole shot me an endearing look.
“I’ll have my usual, Rocky.”
“Okay, beautiful lady.” Rocky winked, then pulled his lower lip between his teeth and scribbled on the pad.
“Rocky. Cool name.” Cole offered his hand. “I’m Cole.”
Rocky tucked the notepad under his arm and gripped Cole’s fingers, giving him a hard shake. “Rocky James Mason Rossi.”
“Rossi, huh? Are you the boss around here?” Cole scratched the stubble on his chin.
“No, my dad is.” Rocky leaned close, lowered his voice. “At least that’s what he says. But he pretty much does whatever Mom tells him.”
Cole laughed and, sweet Lord, there was no better sound.
“Your dad happen to be here?”
“He’s in the office with Mom. They’re probably kissing and stuff.” Rocky scowled. “Nasty.”
“Gross.” Cole scrunched his nose.
Seriously. That man. What was he up to?
“Yesterday they forgot to lock the door and I—”
“Rockster, did you steal your mom’s notepad again?” came a booming voice from the kitchen.
“Uh. Oh.” Rocky dashed away, ducking behind the counter.
The double doors in the back of the dining room swung open, and a tall drink of water barreled through, scanned the area, then stopped cold, a bright smiling lighting his handsome features. “Jesus H Christ. Cole Adams. In the flesh. I thought we weren’t meeting until noon.”
I looked at Cole, who was already on his feet.
“Tango Rossi.” The men embraced with hard slaps to the back.
Cole turned to face me. “Tango, this is my girlfriend—”
“Natalie.” Tango cut him off and came my way, offering his hand. “Good morning.”
“Morning, Tango.”
Brows pinched, Cole’s gaze bounced between me and Tango. “How do you know each other?”
“I eat breakfast here at least twice a week,” I said, then added, “and I’m good friends with his wife.”
“Small fucking world.” Tango’s smile was infectious.
“I’d say it was fate,” Cole teased, shooting me a wink.
My brain reeled. “How do you two know each other?” I asked, pointing between the two large, blindingly beautiful men.
“Went to school together, back East.” Cole clapped Tango’s shoulder. “This guy kicked my ass in the ring more than once.”
“Our fathers have partnered on a few projects,” Tango threw in.
Missing pieces clicked into place. “Rossi Enterprises owns my building. That’s how you found me, isn’t it?”
They exchanged glances.
“And that’s how you got past security.”
Cole cleared his throat.
“I gotta run.” Wearing a boyish grin, Tango clocked Cole in the arm, then nodded at me. “See you soon, Natalie.” He took a step backward, then pointed at Cole. “We’re still on for lunch, yeah?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
With that, Tango turned and sauntered away.
Cole fell into his seat and grabbed my hand across the table. “I’ve known where you were the whole time.”
“What?”
He didn’t even have the courtesy to feign remorse.
“Oh, come on, Natalie. What man worth anything would let the love of his life out of his sights for one single heartbeat?”
Love of his life. I tucked that statement away for later processing. “You weren’t supposed to cheat.”
“I knew where you lived before we made that deal.” He dropped his chin, fiddled with a napkin, and said, “I’ve known for months.”
“That’s still cheating.”
“You’re right. I lied by omission. I’m sorry, but you were so damn cute and determined to make this difficult. You wanted to play. I needed to make you happy.”
“I’m too tired to be mad at you right now. Maybe after another coffee.”
As if on cue, a waitress I didn’t recognize brought refills. “Your breakfast’ll be right out.”
“Thank you,” Cole said, sitting straighter in his chair, turning his attention to the blue sky outside.
Early morning sun rays beamed through the window, lighting him in a dusty glow. I slipped my cell out of my bag and took a series of pics before he aimed his gaze my way again.
Oh, God. My heart.
The way he drank me in, those golden eyes dreamy and wanting and sleepy and grateful.
My phone chimed. I ignored the incoming text.
The waitress brought our plates. I used a fork and knife. Cole dug in with just his fork, his fingers long and graceful gripping the metal utensil. Thick veins mapped his hands, and dear God, I wanted those fingers on my skin. I wanted to spend the rest of the day in bed with that body and those dimples.
My phone chimed again. I shoved the annoyance away.
Cole stiffened. “What time’s your meeting this morning?”
“Nine sharp. I need to be at the office by eight
fifteen so we have time to prepare.”
The third chime would come in three…two…one.
Yep. There it was.
Cole shot a glance at my cell, then back to me. “Don’t you need to get that? What if it’s work?”
“It’s not,” I mumbled before considering the consequences.
Faster than I could backtrack, he snatched the device off the table and read the screen.
Had I not been exhausted, I would’ve put up a fight.
The room heated. Cole stared at the words, his eyes going dark and liquid, his hands trembling.
“I’ve been getting them every day since Joe’s retirement party,” I confessed. “The exact same texts every day. Until yesterday.”
Cole’s chest rose and fell. He studied me like I was a mystery to solve.
I shrunk into my seat. “I had every intention of going to the police last night, but then I fell asleep and—”
“It’s not her,” he growled, slamming the phone down. “It’s not fucking her,” he said again to his plate.
God, how I wanted his words to be true. “What if it is?”
His fists clenched on the table. Jaw tight, he drew a deep breath, then shook his head, eyes seemingly unfocused.
The excruciating silence lasted an eternity.
He fixed his gaze on me once again. “Do you trust me?”
No hesitation. “Yes.”
“Let me take your phone today.”
Cole
Our table sat in the corner of the dining room, eight stories above Lake Willow. The five-star restaurant occupied the eighth floor of Whisper Springs Resort—one of many hotels Rossi Enterprises owned—and boasted a million-dollar view. Mountains, lake, blue sky. Fine china and French crystal. Two men in crisp white shirts and black ties stood in wait far enough away to offer privacy but close enough to assist at a moment’s notice.
“I was sorry to hear about your wife.” Tango spread his white napkin over his lap.
He’d taken a while to broach the subject. For that, I was thankful. “Victoria is why I wanted to meet with you privately.”
“What’s up?”
I offered my old friend the grim details of my short marriage. My suspicions about the car wreck, the texts. Tango listened, not a lick of judgment.
L.O.V.E. Page 22